Holly Jolly
by Vytina
Summary: A short but sweet bit of fluff inspired by Burl Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas," involving the infamous Puppy-Dog Pout, slightly-awkward family gatherings, and mistletoe. Merry Christmas!


**A/N: For the sake of yuletide cheer, I present a new addition to my Kim Possible fan fiction base, once again featuring my absolute favorite non-canon pairing from the show, Kimberly Ann Possible and Lord Montgomery Fiske!**

**For my very good friend and fellow Kim/Monty shipper, ZanpaktosInLove, I offer a short but sweet bit of fluff inspired by Burl Ives' "A Holly Jolly Christmas," involving the infamous Puppy-Dog Pout, slightly-awkward family gatherings, and mistletoe.**

**Title: Holly Jolly**

**Pairing: Kim Possible/Montgomery Fiske**

**Rating: K+ for fluff and romance**

**Rights Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events associated with Kim Possible; all rights belong to Disney.**

**Personal Disclaimer: If you do not ship this pairing, please be respectful and do not leave flames, only constructive criticism. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows over my fireplace.**

* * *

"_Ho! Ho! _

_The mistletoe hung where you can see:_

_Somebody waits for you._

_Kiss her once for me!"_

~ "A Holly Jolly Christmas" by Burl Ives

* * *

When it was all said and done, he couldn't help but feel it had somehow, some strange way, all been worth it.

An invitation to meet the Possible family had been…unexpected, to put it mildly. So much so that his initial response had been to offer any number of excuses and find some way to escape the offer that felt more like a demand than a request. Surely he could find some other tradition to appease his lady love than to be dragged back into civilization and engage in affairs for which he had no interest and even less desire to participate.

But Kimberly's eyes had been large and pleading, and her lip had quivered in that infernal pout that managed to ruin even his most convicted refusal. He greatly suspected that she'd known perfectly well he was incapable of denying her, and the satisfied smile she'd given upon his reluctant agreement only solidified the suspicion.

So here he was, dressed warmly in clothes that were far more suited for the formalities of his homeland's fancy Christmas parties than a small family gathering in the living room. He'd felt sorely out of place from the first moment stepping over the threshold in the company of adults and teenagers alike donning Christmas sweaters and comfortable slacks; the crisp and starched black trousers and cream-colored shirt, complete with a deep red belt to accommodate the season's colors, were the source of the young twins' great fascination. Their inane curiosity had only grown worse throughout the years, and it was making him incredibly uncomfortable.

And then Kimberly appeared from around the corner, and all discomfort melted away like snow beneath a warm sun.

She was a vision: clad in the emerald green that complimented her eyes so well, with a delicate ivory accent around the bodice and waist; gold jewelry matched the color dusted across her eyelids and the soft pink shimmer of her lips; a final touch, the poinsettia mounted at her right hip, completed the look to create an embodiment of festive elegance.

The only sign of her shyness was the slight indent of her teeth into the soft swell of her lower lip as she spun in place, granting him full excess to her appearance. Blue eyes took it in with slow relish, savoring every glimpse of bare skin, warm and soft and brushed with the sun's exposure.

As she finished twirling in place, he wasted no time and took her hand to his lips. Eyes never breaking from hers, he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "You are exquisite."

A distinct blush crept along her cheeks. "You cleaned up nicely, my lord." She murmured seemingly unable to stop smiling. The radiance of her smile sent a warm tremor up his spine, tugging at the corners of his mouth until his smile nearly matched hers.

"So," he said at length, offering her his arm and smiling all the more when she offered that light, airy giggle and linked their arms as he led them down the hallway, "what, pray tell, have you told your family about our…relationship?"

"You're my distinguished and scholarly mentor from England, who has been tutoring me in everything from culture and history, as well as a world-renowned explorer who shares my love of traveling." Kimberly winked slyly, "None of which, I might add, is false."

"No," he agreed, "but you've left out quite a bit of our history."

"Details." She shrugged dismissively. "I doubt my father will relate you, the refined foreigner, with the deranged monkey-man who tried to sabotage his space center."

Blue eyes turned sharply, affronted and appalled. "Deranged?" he repeated, "Is that really what he called me?"

Kimberly giggled again at the horrified expression on his face. "You must admit," she teased, nudging him slightly, "you didn't give the best first impression."

"Certainly it was not a cordial encounter," he sniffed, "but hardly worthy of such _insulting_ description."

The redhead shook her head before resting it on his shoulder, "Then perhaps you can try for a different impression this time, hmm?"

He scowled slightly, but it was a short-lived expression as they made a sharp left turn into the large living room, where the remaining family members were already gathered and, as made apparent by the rapid turning of five heads, awaiting them expectantly.

Already knowing there was little alternative, the English lord quickly produced his most dignified smile, the charm of his youth making a rapid trek to the surface for a second first impression.

* * *

Kimberly released a very happy, very satisfied sigh as she tiptoed away from the corner where she'd been eavesdropping on conversation for the last ten minutes. Monty's charm had done wonders: her mother and grandmother were cheerily gossiping about his debonair mannerisms and, if she wasn't mistaken, his noteworthy looks and charm; her father had made several comments about a _clearly refined upbringing_ and _a positive influence for Kimmy_—because, naturally, no growing up on her part could ever rid her of that nickname.

Overall, it felt like a victory. She quietly entertained a twinge of regret about how much explaining she would have to offer, should the truth ever come out, and what excuse she might offer Ron when he returned from out-of-state Hanukkah celebrations, before deciding that living in the present and not an uncertain future was the ideal route to take.

She found him in the front room, standing with gloved hands folded behind his back as he examined the brightly-lit Christmas tree. He'd abandoned some of his earlier refinement, rolling up his sleeves and undoing a few of his shirt buttons. She liked him this way; it was more familiar to see him relaxed and at ease, even if in clothing that he rarely, if ever, wore.

But there was the matter of his gloves that irritated her. Naturally, there was a reason for wearing them outside of his home, but she was far too accustomed to being able to touch him and entwine their fingers without a cloth obstruction.

Throwing caution to the wind, she slipped up behind him and captured both hands. He didn't seem surprised, only titled his head slightly to observe her over one shoulder while she peeled away the gloves. When the final inch of black cloth was gone, he reversed the grip and pulled her to his chest.

"Ever impatient." He scolded lightly, "We really must work no this unfortunate trait of yours, Kimberly."

"I eagerly await that lesson." She smirked, sliding her slender digits between broad and rough fingers. His other hand found its way to curl around her hip, holding her in a dancer's pose.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" he inquired with a playful tilt of the head.

She giggled and nodded with a half-curtsy. "My lord," Kimberly murmured, letting him take the lead and spin her around the room.

Earlier, the floor had been cluttered with destroyed wrappings and strewn ribbons, but it had been cleared and now allowed for free, unrestrained movement. There was no elaborate orchestra, as he recalled from Christmas parties and holiday gatherings back home in his younger days, but the cheerful outpouring of music from the stereo that set the mood for their impromptu dance. He wasn't familiar with the particular song, but it was lively and he quickly grew to like it.

"So, Lord Fiske," Kimberly asked, eyes shining with delight as he spun her out, "was this as terrible as you'd thought?"

"Hmm," he pondered, smiling confidently as he pulled her back to his chest, "not quite _terrible_, actually."

His eyes lifted to the ceiling, and out of curiosity she followed his gaze to the fresh spring of mistletoe suspended above, complete with a little red bow secured tight in place. Its placement was innocent enough, but she couldn't help feel he was guilty of planning this from the first step of their dance.

Looking back into his sharp blue eyes, glimmering with a mischievous grin, she knew she was right.

But as he slowly dipped her down, one arm tight around her waist, the other clasping her hand with fingers entwined, and met her lips with his, she couldn't help but feel it was all worth it.

**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**


End file.
